Secret Loss
by Flyaway Dove
Summary: It's the end of the war and Hogwarts lies in ruins. The one Hermione rushes to is not Harry or Ron, as many would expect-as she herself would expect. No, it's the person whom she has come to love, and is about to lose. ONESHOT.


The war was over

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter, but I do own the plot. This is my take on the end of the war, it's a little AU.

_**Secret Loss**_

The war was over. Much of Hogwarts lay in ruins. Smoke filled the air, rubble and the dead and injured bodies of Good and Bad littered the floors. Voldemort was destroyed, finally, after so many years of searching and waiting and dodging his blows. Now it was time to assess the damage and to make sure that another big threat would not emerge.

Hermione searched frantically around the Great Hall. She knew that Harry and Ron should be her first priorities, but they were not. The three of them had been through so much together; they had left Hogwarts, camped out in tight spaces for months; she had left her family for them, she had risked her life for them. She had stuck by Harry when Ron fled from them. Since their first year at Hogwarts together, they had battled so many evils, overcome so many obstacles and all of them together. Harry had just defeated Voldemort in the final battle at Hogwarts, and he should have been the one she rushed to. She had just shared her first kiss with Ron, (in case they had all perished, she wanted to make sure she received a kiss from him), and it had been a rather electric kiss at that. He should have been the second one she bounded to.

For some reason unexplainable reason, she was searching for the fallen body of another; one whom she had not seen in months, but for whom she had growing feelings for. He had been occupying her thoughts more and more over the past months. She wondered what had become of him after fleeing from Hogwarts, not being able to carry out orders and kill the Headmaster. She knew in her heart that he was good, but scared of powers greater than his own. His bravery was not equal to Harry's, nor even Ron's, and he had not been the nicest person over the years, but Hermione was deeply attracted to him. Out of the watching eyes of her best friends, she had actually spent some time with the ferret, when they were in the library or on rounds during prefect duties. He never admitted his fear, but Hermione learned to read it in his eyes. He was afraid of his father, of Voldemort, of becoming a Death Eater. Yes, she cared deeply for Ron and for Harry, but she cared for Draco in a different way, a way she was not quite sure how to explain. All she knew was that she had to find him and make sure he was all right. She was in a panic, and she would not settle until she found him in the battlefield.

Hermione knew she was pretty banged up herself, and she was limping slightly, but none of that mattered now. All of her pain vanished when she spotted him lying beside the overturned head table at the top of the hall. She rushed over to him, dodging fallen stones and groaning bodies. She knelt next to his body and tried to discern if he was breathing. His chest was moving slowly up and down, and the tension in her chest relaxed just a little.

His eyes were closed and his blonde hair was matted with blood. Suddenly, he coughed and his eyelids fluttered open. His breathing was becoming ragged. "Draco," Hermione said softly, and touched his hand. His dazed eyes focused on hers.

"Hermione," he whispered. His voice sounded hoarse and he coughed again. Then, a coughing fit hit him and his body was wracked with the effort of coughing. Hermione scooted herself to his head and rested his head in her lap in an attempt to elevate him and hamper the coughing. She tried to ignore the pain in her injured leg.

"Shh," she soothed, as if that would help him. His lips were stained with blood when the coughing finally subsided. He was still breathing heavily and unevenly. Hermione pushed the bloody hair from his face, trying to ease his pain.

"Hermione," he groaned again. "What are you doing?" He sounded confused; Hermione wondered why he could be thinking of such things when he was injured so badly.

"Draco, you're hurt terribly," she said. She was attempting to keep the panic out of her voice and merely allow worry to shine through, but she wasn't sure if it was working.

"No shit," he said, trying to keep his usual snarkiness about him. It wasn't working too well, however.

"But you'll be okay," she assured him. "Everything will be all right, Draco; I'm here now, I'll take care of you." Those words surprised her—she had no idea where they had come from, but it felt right, saying them to him.

Tilting his head back, he looked up at her. His eyes softened when they met her face. "It hurts," he said simply, but those words, coming from him, meant more than if they had come from anyone else in the world. These were the first words he had ever said to Hermione to reveal his vulnerability. They sounded so pitiful, coming from those sweet, sweet lips. Hermione knew that, with these words, he was telling her that he cared for her too, and that he needed help. Tears sprung to her eyes, and she tried furiously to blink them back before they fell onto his upturned face.

"I've got to get you to a Healer," she said. "Please hold on until then." She had no idea why he was affecting her so. Why did she feel this way for him, when he was a Slytherin? He had been hateful to all those Hermione cared for. Still, she was drawn inexplicably to him. She knew that she could not live without him.

He coughed again. "I don't know if I can hang on that long."

She caressed his hair more quickly, though her hands were beginning to shake. "No, no, Draco, you've got to hang on, all right? You'll be fine; everything is going to be okay. You can't leave. You've got so much good left to do."

"Hermione, why are you doing this?" he repeated. It was becoming more difficult for him to speak.

"Because…" she began. She had no idea how to finish her sentence. Teardrops were thickening in her eyes. "Because I haven't gotten to know you as well as I'd've liked to," she finished. That was the only answer that made sense to her at this point.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, concern held in his eyes. "You don't look well."

A tear escaped against her will and landed in his hair, washing away some of the dirt and blood to reveal the pure blonde hair underneath. "Don't worry about me Draco you're the one who's hurt. I wish I knew some more complex spells…I only know basic healing charms…" She reached for her wand but found that it was missing. She must have dropped it in her frantic search for Draco. "My wand," she whispered anxiously.

"Its okay, Hermione," Draco gasped, searching for air.

More tears escaped Hermione's eyes. She turned her head so they would not fall on his face. He reached his arm up and placed his hand on her cheek, cupping her face. Putting a hand on top of his, she leaned her face into his caring gesture. "You're not dying, Draco. It will be okay. I'm here, we're together, I'll take care of you…" Like a mantra, she kept repeating those words to him. His breathing was becoming shorter and quicker. "Don't you dare, Draco—don't you dare leave me."

"Check on Potter and the Weasel," he told her. His eyes were closing.

"No, no, no, no, no," Hermione insisted, shaking her head feverishly, still fighting back the tears. "Draco, I've been thinking about you since you left at the end of last year. I've been so worried about you. I've missed our conversations so much…Draco, I care about you. I can't have our reunion to be the day you…you…" Die. She couldn't say the word. He was not going to die. Her emotions were bubbling inside of her, mixing and stewing and confusing her to know end. But one emotion stuck out in particular and it was something like love. "Draco, wake up," she persisted.

His eyelids fluttered open then closed again. "Let me go, Hermione. I don't deserve anything from you."

"Yes you do. You're good, Draco; you're really good, and don't think anything else," she told him forcefully. The shell of Draco Malfoy had given way to his lack of self-esteem, his fear, his bravery. He was not afraid to die, but Hermione was afraid. She was terribly afraid. She did not know what she would do without him there. She had been able to see such a great side of him, such a caring side. He was wonderful, and she was the only one who saw that in him. She knew they could get through this together. Somehow, they were so much alike. Somehow, they understood one another.

"Thank you," he muttered as his hand fell from her face. Hermione clutched at the hand as it fell to his chest.

"Just hold on, I'll get a Healer," she said, and made a move to stand, but his hand squeezed hers and she stayed.

"I love you, Hermione," he whispered.

The crying was uninhibited as soon as she heard those words escape his blood-stained lips. Those three unbelievable words that made her heart skip and her mouth fill with cotton. His breathing was growing even slower and she held his hand tightly before leaning down and kissing him. "I love you, too, Draco," she replied quietly. She expected it to be more difficult to say. The phrase rolled off her tongue because she knew she meant it. She meant it with all of her heart. Draco Malfoy had made his way into her life in such a short time, and now he was quickly slipping out of it.

His breathing stopped altogether as Hermione pulled away from his lips and she burst into hysterics. Bent over double, clutching at him, she cried over the body of the man she loved, the man who had changed so much and who did not know how she would have devoted herself to him.

And as much as it hurt her to realize, she knew she needed to check on her best friends. She owed her life to Harry, and her heart to Ron. No one would ever know of her lost love that was Draco Malfoy.


End file.
